Young Prometheus

Hagrid had been happy too soon.

The warm reception at the Leaky Cauldron only deepened his misconception.

Nobody believed that this sunny, muscular young man was an eleven-year-old boy, let alone Harry Potter, the Savior.

Hagrid, who seemed to have grown up on Veritaserum, hadn't even had time to expose himself before Tom helpfully opened the door to Diagon Alley.

[ Ding ding ding, detected an evil presence! The enemy's lackeys are here. How could the Savior Lord not strike back with all his might! ]

[ Quest: [Teach the Dark Wizards a Lesson] (Defeat one dark wizard to earn 1 EXP, or 10 EXP for a Death Eater. Upon completion, receive one guaranteed Silver-tier draw for magical knowledge.) ]

Hagrid couldn't hear the devilish voice, nor could he see the blue screen.

Harry's body trembled, his muscles began to tense, and in an instant, excitement was all that remained in his gentle emerald eyes!

"Let's get some money from Gringotts first. Heh, I haven't forgotten the key. That white house, you... Harry, don't—"

Hagrid's voice silenced the entire street for an instant, before a thunderous buzz broke out.

"Harry? That's Hagrid, the Forbidden Forest Keeper at Hogwarts!"

"Harry Potter!"

"Where is he?"

Everyone overlooked the towering figure as he turned into an arrow loosed from a bow, racing toward the other side of Gringotts' shadow, the part Hagrid hadn't planned to show him—the entrance to Knockturn Alley.

Bam!

The tall boy landed like a superhero, sending countless pieces of rubble flying.

Like a burst of daylight breaking through the dark.

His finely tailored, lustrous white shirt, pale jeans, and sunny smile all seemed completely out of place in the gloomy, narrow alley.

Countless ill-intentioned, curious, and malicious gazes fell upon Harry.

"A Muggle?" The platinum-haired man, his hairline receding, held a serpent-headed cane. His cold gray eyes narrowed. He looked away as soon as their gazes met, as if he'd seen something filthy, and turned to inspect the cracked glass of a cabinet.

"Hair, eyes, grease, fingernails, flesh... and pain." A slick-haired man appeared behind the counter, stooped over. "After we've harvested it all, we'll dump him outside St. Mungo's. The healers there will make him forget everything and send him back to his shiny little quagmire in one piece. He should be grateful to live in this age. It's the soul that—"

"Look. The hunt has begun."

A sharp, vicious yell rang out from the shop opposite, which sold poisonous candles, shriveled heads, and eyeballs pickled in beer.

"Stupefy!"

A dazzling, blood-red beam shot from the pitch-black doorway.

Pff—

His right hand seemed to brush casually through the air. The red light met his palm with nothing more than a dull thud. A Muggle? He raised his head, revealing a set of pearly white teeth. "Calculation... complete. Justice will be served!"

The sound of shattering glass, the rush of a massive object cutting through the air, screams, shrieks... and the rumble of collapsing buildings all rang out at once.

The platinum-haired man instinctively tried to cast a spell, but the shaking ground sent his serpent-headed cane flying from his hand. His body pitched forward as the wind from above whipped across his scalp.

A pained groan came from behind him, followed by the sound of someone hitting the ground.

"How can a measly spell stand against my body, tempered by a thousand trials~!"

"Potter Combat: Pull Dog Tail!... Hammer Dog Head!"

"Pull Noodles!"

Screams and rumbling filled the air alongside the man's voice... then, all at once, silence fell.

The platinum-haired man held his breath and cautiously reached toward where his cane should have been.

"Found you."

He seemed to hear the devil's voice. His heart felt as though a fist had squeezed it tight. He didn't dare look up. All he could see was a pair of white Muggle shoes with drawstrings? Then everything went black, and his body seemed to leave the ground...

An old witch carrying a plate piled with fingernails tottered past the shop.

The black-haired man casually crushed a strand of splendid Opal Necklace underfoot, stepped over a shriveled hand, and met the old witch's gaze.

Clatter!

The plate fell, scattering fingernails everywhere.

"Don't worry. I never hit old people," the man said gently.

The old witch looked ready to cry. Without bothering to pick up what she'd dropped, she scrambled toward the light.

"Kick Dog Waist!"

"You're an old witch, and that wasn't a punch."

Hagrid reached the entrance to Knockturn Alley and saw the scene: rubble everywhere, an old witch flying through the air, and Harry pulling his foot back.

"Wash Dishes."

Harry still wore his sunny smile. The bloodstains on his fists, face, and white shirt all faded away, as if an invisible eraser were wiping them clean.

"You... What did you do?" Hagrid finally realized the boy before him wasn't as simple as he'd thought.

Countless crackles, like firecrackers going off, rang out as the Aurors—the magical police—arrived late to clean up the mess.

Meanwhile, in the Misinformation Office.

"Professor Dumbledore, the Muggle Prime Minister has replied. They'll invent an international research institute and announce that it has selected a very small number of young people worldwide with the potential for revolutionary thinking. Harry will be the only person chosen in Britain for [Young Prometheus]."

"Excellent." Dumbledore stretched, finally allowing his tense body to relax.

"This is terrible! Professor Dumbledore!"

A cry of alarm suddenly came from outside.

"What is it now?" Dumbledore asked calmly. Ever since he'd come to the Ministry of Magic, problems had kept finding him, as if he were the Minister himself.

"These people do love making a fuss." Fudge, who'd been having afternoon tea nearby, got up to open the door.

The door opened by itself.

Beside the panicked pink-haired rookie Auror stood a man like a lion.

"Scrimgeour." Fudge narrowed his eyes. The man before him had been a formidable rival in the election. "What brings you here?"

"Dumbledore." Scrimgeour ignored Fudge. "Knockturn Alley has been attacked. The attacker was... Harry Potter."

"Harry?" Dumbledore cried out.

For a brief moment, he was lost in memory.

Inside the Hogwarts Headmaster's office.

"Phineas, get to the point..." Dumbledore had lost all composure. "You're saying I haven't checked Mrs. Figg's letters in four years?"

With trembling hands, he opened the long-sealed letter.

Phineas had also moved from one portrait frame to another, coming to peer down at Dumbledore from above.

"What house-elves, Dumbledore? Your Savior is a lost cause."

"No." Dumbledore took a deep breath. "The question is why I ignored it. Why did I think I should let things take their course?"

The wizard who stood at the pinnacle of the modern age looked toward his pocket, where a wand with knobby protrusions like bones lay.

Could it be... that God really exists?

At that moment, Dumbledore thought the same thing again.

"Who was attacked?"

The pink-haired girl answered before anyone else. "They were all dark wizards, and Lucius Malfoy! That Death Eater!"

"And you are?"

"Nymphadora Tonks."

"Wait... You didn't rough Harry up, did you?" Fudge hurriedly asked. "Harry wasn't hurt, was he?"

"No." Scrimgeour stepped forward. "The dark wizards were almost all taken down at the same time. He and the Forbidden Forest Keeper were left at the—"

"Let them go at once!"

Fudge cut Scrimgeour off before he could finish.

"But—"

"No buts! I'm the Minister!"

Fudge interrupted him again, standing behind Dumbledore like a smug little man who'd just gotten his way. He clasped his hands behind his back and raised his chin.

"They were all dark wizards... Didn't you hear? Mr. Malfoy may have just been caught up in a misunderstanding, but I'm sure he'll understand."

"You—"

For a moment, Scrimgeour seemed ready to turn into a lion and pounce. Fudge wanted to dodge, but stopped when he saw Dumbledore's back.

"Yes, Minister." Scrimgeour glanced at Dumbledore, then turned and left abruptly.